that rhyme with--Florena, Dulcina, Rowena, and
verbena, you know."

"And 'you've seen her,'" suggested Tilly, gravely.

Quentina frowned a moment in thought.

"Y-yes," she admitted; "but I don't think that's a very pretty one."

It was Genevieve this time who choked a giggle into a cough, and who, a
moment later, turned very eagerly to welcome an interruption in the
person of the Rev. Mr. Jones.

Soon after this Quentina suggested a trip through the house.

"You see I want to show you where you're going to sleep," she explained.

"Oh, Mr. Jones told us that," observed Tilly, as the seven girls trooped
up the narrow stairway. "He said we were to stand up in the corners."
Tilly spoke with the utmost gravity.

Quentina turned, wide-eyed.

"Why, you couldn't! You'd never sleep a bit," she demurred concernedly.
"Besides, it isn't necessary."

All but Tilly and Genevieve tittered audibly. Tilly still looked the
picture of innocence. Genevieve frowned at her sternly, then stepped
forward and put her arm around Quentina's waist.

"Tilly was only joking, Quentina," she explained. "When you know Tilly
better you'll find she never by any chance talks sense--but always
nonsense," she finished, looking at Tilly severely.

Tilly wrinkled up her nose and pouted; but her eyes laughed.

"There, here's my room," announced Quentina, a moment later. "We've put
a couch in it, and if you don't mind my sleeping with you, three can be
here. Then across the hall here is the twins' room, and two more can
sleep in this; and Paul and Ned's room down there at the end of the hall
will take the other two. There! You see we've got it fixed right well."

"Oh, yes--well for us; but how about the boys?" cried Genevieve. "Where
will they sleep?"

Quentina's lips parted, but before the words were uttered, a new thought
seemed to have come to her. With an odd little glance at Tilly, she
drawled demurely:

"Oh, they are going to sleep in the corners."

They all laughed this time.

"Well, now we've done the whole house, and we'll take the yard,"
proposed Quentina, as, a little later, she led the way down-stairs and
out of doors. "There! aren't my nasturtiums beautiful?" she exulted,
with the air of a fond mother displaying her first-born. She was
pointing to a bed of straggling, puny plants, beautifully free from
weeds, and showing here and there a few brilliant blossoms.

Tilly turned her back suddenly. Cordelia looked distressed. Ber